


Jealousy actually leads to Handjobs

by MotherFuckingSorcery



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Possessive Behavior, S1 Ep7, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherFuckingSorcery/pseuds/MotherFuckingSorcery
Summary: Set during s1 ep7 but in this case Hughie breaks up with Starlight and MM actually convinces Butcher that they should talk in private.He takes a breath -deceptively fresh and sweet- and dives back into kiss this mess of a man, who dresses like a cross between a noir detective and a dad on vacation and still makes him hard as a rock and makes his heart pound harder than a jackhammer. Butcher slips a leg between his, and all thoughts are chased out of his mind.“Please-“Hughie doesn’t even know what he’s begging for at this point. Butcher bites down into the soft flesh of Hughie’s neck and he can feel the skin break, can almost feel the blood between his own teeth, that coppery taste.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Comments: 11
Kudos: 270





	Jealousy actually leads to Handjobs

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck canon. YEAH I SAID IT.

Hughie’s head was pounding like he was at some kind of shitty concert and all he wanted to do was lie down and cry. Lying to Annie was bad enough as it was but when her face crumpled as he lied to her, lied about why he didn’t want to be together anymore was almost equivalent to being smacked in the face by Butcher’s crowbar. He was done. Done trying for someone who he couldn't have.

Kimiko looked up quizzically as he walked in from where she was stirring mix.

“She wants to know where you were,” said Frenchie, batter on his face and his arm slung over Kimiko.

“That’s a compelling fucking question,” said Butcher, from the table where he was forking up madeleines with gusto.

Hughie mentally sighed and braced himself.

“Hey, can we talk?” Hughie asked, cringing internally.

“That’s what were doing, innit?” said Butcher, chewing madeleines and forking more into his mouth.

“No, I mean-“

“There ain’t no secrets here son, spit it out,” said Butcher, still not looking at Hughie.

MM looked up from where he was polishing his rifle and made a face.  
“Stop being an asshole, just talk to the guy,” he grunted.

“Hughie doesn’t mind. Do you, Hughie?” 

Butcher looked up, finally, and saw the face MM was making.

“Fine, if you’re gonna get your knickers in a twist.”

He beckoned Hughie through one of the side doors, which led to a bleak bedroom with walls which were stained, presumably with blood or some other red substance.

“Now tell me.”

Hughie fidgeted.

“Spit it out. We don’t have all fucking day, princess.”

“Okay, fine, I don’t think I can do this anymore,” blurted Hughie, anxious.

“Do what?” 

“This, I mean Vought, whatever with Kimiko, it’s awful and you got to stop it but I can’t,” babbled Hughie.

“Right. You just want to kick back, drink a few Mai Tais, and let us do all the work, is that it?” smiled Butcher, his smile filled with barely restrained anger.

Hughie looked at him, and a twinge of anger inflected his words.

“You know I managed to go my whole life without seeing someone die horribly and now I’m up to about half a dozen so I think I’m good,” he spat, at the man who had come into his life and trampled all over it.

Butcher scoffed.

“Please. You’re a fucking killer Hughie, just like the rest of us. Now, why don’t you stop pissing around and tell me what this is really all about.”

Hughie broke.  
“Yeah? Fine. Annie. Okay, it’s about Annie.” 

Butcher slow clapped and looked around the dank dark room like he was expecting other people to join in.

“Fucking finally. You’ve been sneaking off to give her one at Lincoln Grand.” 

“You’ve been following me?”

“Like you gave me a choice.” Retorted Butcher, stared him down with those deadly eyes. 

“She doesn’t know anything, okay, I’m not gonna tell her anything, all right?” continued Hughie, “We’ll just..”

“What?” interrupted Butcher, moving closer to Hughie.

“Fuck off to Epcot? The Hamptons? Maybe pump out a few flying babies?” He mocked.

“No I-I don’t know-“

“No, you don’t know cause you ain’t thinking, except with your dick.”

“You’re wrong about her.”

“That bitch is fucking playing you and you’re too fucking blind to see it,” Butcher snarled.

“Why? Are you jealous? Because you were the only one playing me before?” Hughie yelled back.

Butcher’s face changed. And then Hughie realised.

“Holy shit. This was all because you were jealous?” 

Butcher grabbed the front of his shirt and reeled him in close.

“Shut the fuck up!”

He dropped Hughie’s shirt and made for the door but Hughie was faster and slammed the door shut behind him and grabbed Butcher’s stupid coat and smashed their mouths together.

“I broke up with her, you know?” he said, as he licked into Butchers mouth which still kind of tasted like madeleines and a faint aftertaste of blood. “Couldn’t justify staying with her when all I wanted was to stay with you. Murder Supes.”

Butcher growled and gripped Hughie’s thigh almost painfully, in a way that he knew would leave finger bruises tomorrow. His beard burned in the best possible way and Hughie could feel his cheeks reddening and his cock stiffening in his jeans as Butcher palmed him roughly. He practically keens at the touch and leaned back in to kiss Butcher, long and filthy. The friction from Butcher’s hands and the sensation of that beard on his face sends electric sparks up his spine, molten. He took a breath -deceptively fresh and sweet- and dives back into kiss this mess of a man, who dresses like a cross between a noir detective and a dad on vacation and still makes him hard as a rock and makes his heart pound harder than a jackhammer. Butcher slipped a leg between his, and all thoughts are chased out of his mind.

“Please-“ 

Hughie doesn’t even know what he’s begging for at this point. Butcher bit down into the soft flesh of Hughie’s neck and he can feel the skin break, can almost feel the blood between his own teeth, that coppery taste. 

“You’re mine,” Butcher snarled, grabbing Hughie roughly, “And if you ever leave, I’ll have to kill you. Break your pretty little neck.”

Dimly, Hughie’s aware that that should be alarming and not arousing but also his cock’s too hard to properly process possible death threats. Butcher’s hand's wrapped around his neck and slows his oxygen intake right down as he makes direct eye contact with Hughie. Hughie gasped for air and is this fear? Hughie’s completely aware that Butcher could kill him at any moment but he knows, he knows that he wouldn’t want to lose a valuable asset, knows that when Butcher chooses something he never fucking lets it go. Like a terrier. Eventually, Butcher’s hand loosened and he pushed Hughie up against the wall, which is freezing against his back but it makes a nice contrast to the heat radiating from Butcher, who is leaving the biggest hickie on his neck. It’s gonna be sore and purple and impossible to cover and the thought made him groan, arch against Butcher, the thought of his neck being marked for the whole world to see, of still feeling it deep in his bones. Butcher fisted a hand in his hair and pulled hard and the sound that Hughie makes is unrecognisable, inhuman and obscene. He licked into Butcher’s mouth again like he’s swirling intricate patterns into his mouth with his tongue. Butcher’s hands pull at his shirt impatiently and after a few seconds of fiddling with buttons, he just ripped Hughie’s shirt off him and tossed it onto the floor.

“Hey,” objected Hughie, before his mouth was covered again, with beard and lips and Butcher.

Butcher pinched a nipple and Hughie hissed. Then Butcher undid his trousers and then Hughie’s and wrapped a warm rough hand around him and strokes and his brain short circuits. He angled their dicks together, pre come coating Hughie’s dick already and stroked both of them. His pace is relentless and constant; Hughie‘s whole body is tensed, his spine drawn like a bow as all he can think about is reduced to the lewd wet slippery sounds of skin sliding against skin and the sensation of calloused hands on him. His hand gripped the back of Butcher’s neck as his whole body feels like its being electrocuted.

“Fuck,” he managed, before he comes, spurting come all over his stomach.

Butcher grunts and speeds up and tightenex his grip as Hughie whimpered because it’s too much, he’s too sensitive and comes all over Hughie’s stomach. It takes a few moments before either of them can form words.

“That was-“

“Yeah.”

Hughie winced at the mess on his stomach and realises with some disdain, the cloth that Butcher hands him to clean up with is actually his discarded shirt. He wiped as best as he can and then chucks the shirt on the floor. He grabs a shirt from the drawers and went out into the living room, intent on chucking his shirt into his laundry. 

MM handed a fifty dollar bill to Frenchie as soon as he saw Hughie.

“What?” said Hughie.

“If you’re fucking, at least make it less obvious. You just cost me fifty bucks.” Grouched MM, scowling at Frenchie who looks incredibly smug.

“You have something on your stomach, mon frère,” said Frenchie, waving the fifty dollar bill.

Hughie gave up and went back to the bedroom. He may as well get some sleep.

“He’s even wearing Butcher’s shirt. I can’t take two people wearing Hawaiian shirts,” he heard behind him faintly.

Butcher’s already sprawled in bed, still looking wrecked. Hughie flops down next to him.

"Round 2?" He grinned.

Butcher groaned and hit him with a pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Im so tired pls kill me


End file.
